


My Side of Sin

by PendragonQueen09



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angel Virgil, Demon Logan, Dukexiety - Freeform, Fighting God, Intrulogical, M/M, Pining, Running Away, human remus, supportive christian family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:15:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25111474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PendragonQueen09/pseuds/PendragonQueen09
Summary: Virgil is Remus' guardian angel.  Logan is Remus' demon ward.  Remus is a human who has decided to fight God.  Read on as the angel attempts to steer him towards good and the demon attempts to steer him towards evil.  Why?  Because they love him, of course.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders
Comments: 3
Kudos: 46





	My Side of Sin

**Author's Note:**

> This fic in general has a lot of warnings so do not read if you can't handle icky stuff! It's mostly just Remus being Remus tho tbh  
> Tw: animal death, disrespecting the dead, grave robbing, starvation mention for animals, dead animal skinning, arson mention, Christian family, bone carving, black market, ghost mention, murder mentions  
> Most of these are reoccurring themes because Remus

Virgil had a problem.

No, Virgil had a  _ few _ problems.

His first problem was the fact that he was an angel. 

Now, this had never been a 'problem' before. Virgil enjoyed his life as an angel- as a guardian angel, no less. He enjoyed watching humans grow, watching them  _ live _ . He loved doing little things to keep them away from sin. And he was  _ very  _ good at his job. So why, then, was it a problem?

That question could be answered by Virgil's other problems.

The second problem: he was a guardian angel, assigned to a human.

Once again, not usually an issue.

It was his third problem that tipped the scales against him:

Virgil had fallen in love with his human.

His name was Remus, and he was the unfortunate source of every problem the angel had at the moment.

The human wasn't the traditional type. He was brash and disobedient and seemed to stir up trouble wherever he went. No matter how much prompting Virgil did to keep him away from sinning, Remus always seemed to find a way to do so. It was  _ infuriatingly _ frustrating. 

Remus wanted to set something on fire? Virgil made a point to hide all matches and lighters and especially gasoline in a hundred foot radius. And there was another problem: Remus couldn't be  _ deterred _ . When he wanted something, he stopped at nothing to achieve it.

So instead of matches, he built a small fire in his yard with the use of a magnifying glass and the sun- one that Virgil insistently made sure the wind put out, any time it even looked like it would catch. And they did that for  _ hours _ , from noon to night, as if his human had nothing better to do than attempt to start a fire that would never catch.

It was horrifyingly admirable, how persistent his human became when he set his mind to something. No humans of his past had continued past two hours with tasks that Virgil deterred them from, but for Remus, it seemed to be a part of him- to be tenacious.

Remus' family was a soft Christian type- the kind of family that stayed out of drama and tried not to cause problems. Maybe that was why his human in particular seemed to stand out so much. There wasn't much Virgil could do about Remus' mind, he'd been born the way he is. Not that he would want to. All humans were unique, but all humans were capable of good. That's one of the things Virgil learned in his millennia of doing this job. Virgil didn't need to change Remus' brain to push him down a path of good- it was a wonderful thing that he was already capable of.

So far, Remus as a person was a fairly balanced individual. Despite his obvious drive for demonic intentions, Virgil had managed to supply him with enough opportunities for good that he was a flickering soul- one unsure of whether it was bound for Heaven or Hell. 

When it came to people, Remus could be a saint. He would hold doors, help older folks across roads, do volunteer work at a senior center or a kindergarten- but it was  _ remarkable _ how quickly the switch flipped from a cheerful, smiling extrovert to a man who just wanted to do some  _ damage.  _

That drive for chaos? Virgil was  _ obsessed  _ with it. Remus was such a change from the easy humans of the past. Often, Virgil found himself  _ wanting  _ the human to cause a little destruction, a little entropy.

But he wouldn't let it happen. Not on purpose, anyway. If Remus ended up in Hell, Virgil might never see him again. And not only that, but his human would end up suffering horribly.

Because Virgil failed to protect him.

He would  _ never _ let that happen.

Virgil had never seen Remus' demon ward. They had to be as old as Virgil, as experienced as he was to put up such a fight over the human. He only wished he had encountered them on a human he cared less about. 

Remus belonged in Heaven. And Virgil would fight tooth and nail to be sure the human arrived there at the end of his life.

That was the job of a guardian angel, after all.

\--------

Remus was a fascinating human.

He peaked Logan's interest in a way no other human had. The man was thousands of degrees of conflicting information- a genius, but an idiot. An angel to living things, a demon to the dead. He was a free spirit, wholly untouched by demonic or angelic interference. 

Logan adored him in a way that only a demon could. A manner of temptation, a manner of desire. He wanted Remus- wanted the human more than he could bear. To the point it felt his skin was crawling with bugs and heat and he always just managed to resist making his presence known for fear of terrifying the human into losing that quality of freedom that he loved so well.

The demon could boost him in the right direction- objects and weather were easy enough to manipulate, but no matter how Logan helped the human to give in to base urges that he  _ knew _ he had, something else Remus did always balanced it out. Logan held a steady, tempered appreciation for the angel on the other end.

Neither of them would give him up without a fight.

The human lived with his parents and grandparents. His brother was the only member of the family that had moved out of the traditional household, chasing dreams of a life alone. If only Logan had been assigned to  _ him,  _ his job might have been a whole lot easier- but he never would have met Remus, never would have been tempted by the free soul inside.

Unswayed.

Even the strongest humans generally couldn't handle the attention and focus of a demon as old as Logan. They always swayed. They always  _ broke _ , going on to commit serial sprees and other crimes. The demon wondered, somewhat, if Remus' resistance was because of the angel- a similar pull, keeping Remus from snapping, allowing the human to be  _ perfectly  _ that- just human.

Logan loved his human as a purr from the darkness.

It wasn't that Logan hadn't fallen in love with his humans before. On the contrary, he held an adoration for every human he was assigned- but they were always easy, sweet little things to tempt. By the end of their lifespans, they had always been on his side of sin. It was calculated, simple.

With Remus? Not so much. 

The man was in his late 20s and had yet to even  _ murder _ . And despite that- Remus had the worst impulses of any human Logan had ever warded. The fact that he hadn't acted on them was almost a stain on Logan's record, but he liked it that way.

Difficult.  _ Hard _ , in more ways than one.

Every act of good sent a little shiver down Logan's spine- pleasant only in the manner of waiting for a deadline. It ramped up the danger of his charge, holding the difficulty by a thread and bouncing it every time Logan made a leap. Keeping it impossible to hold the human on the side of Hell.

But he would have him. Logan would claim Remus as he had claimed every human since his first and last failure. 

After all, that was his job, as a demon ward. 

\--------

A lot of weird things seemed to happen to Remus, and around Remus. They always had, since he was little.

Until he was three, he had claimed to see ghosts. Two of them, always by his sides. When his mother had signed a question of what they looked like, humored, he had pointed to a painting of Jesus in their kitchen, a demon on his right and an angel on his left.

" _ Like them,"  _ he had said. " _ They look like them." _

His mother had silently laughed at the child's overactive imagination. His brother had scoffed in the dramatic way only a child knew before crawling away.

Remus grew out of his habit of "seeing ghosts," but he still grew to be a strange child.

In elementary school, he spent all of his time drawing humans with wings. He couldn't have named why, not if you asked him. But after the drawings were finished, he would push them to the edge of his desk and turn them around, holding them there as if waiting for something.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten.

And then he'd turn them back.

He told the teacher it was a good luck charm, and it helped him get good grades- helped him focus. When he was scolded, he stopped. His grades fell, just as he had said they would, but the teacher didn't allow him to continue the strange ritual. 

There were similar ones, for different aspects of the child's day.

Just before gym, he stomped his right foot two times and clapped three. He closed his eyes and held his breath for five. And then, he stomped his left foot twice, taking a deep breath. Every day he did this before any kind of physical activity.

" _ It's my good luck charm, _ " he always said. " _ It helps me do better." _

In middle school, these rituals stopped. Remus' performance fell as he favored friends over grades and school. Even without the rituals, strange occurrences clung to him like leeches.

In the middle of class one day, a black cat crawled out of his bag, looking rather starved. While the rest of the class held a mild disgust for the ragged, stinky thing as it hopped onto Remus' shoulders, he only blinked at it. He raised a hand, scratched behind its ear, stood- and left the classroom without a word. Like it was a warning. In truth, all he was doing was taking the stray home to feed it, fully forgetting that he needed to ask permission before walking out of class and the school itself.

There was a storm that day, flooding the area so harshly that the students were trapped inside until the next. Remus remained blissfully unaware as he tended to the cat.

He named it "Stinky," plain and simple.

Remus didn't get much better about his behavior in high school. More often than not, he skipped whole days. 

Some days he only skipped to volunteer somewhere else.

Some days, Remus skipped school to fulfill his growing curiosity with the dead.

The high schooler was quite the little grave robber, but rather than stealing valuables, he stole parts of the deceased.

There was something about fingers and teeth that had Remus' eyes shining in cheerful wonder by the light of the moon, dirt covering his knees with a shovel beside him.

Besides, he wasn't  _ hurting  _ anyone- not as long as he put the dirt back when he was done. The dead couldn't speak, but they could still serve a purpose.

Remus' favorite purpose for them was jewelry and carvings.

He didn't just steal teeth and fingers, of course- those were just his favorite because they were so small and cute! Well, to Remus they were cute, at least.

He sold his little carvings on the black market and made up for his grave robbing by donating most of the money to the local funeral home so they could supply families with cheaper funerals. So it was justifiable, in his mind.

Who would miss a couple of rotted bones? He made them so much prettier.

He did stop grave robbing into adulthood. He got a job at the library, where he could read to his heart's content about bones and the human body.

When he felt a malicious urge now, he usually just found some roadkill to play with. He would skin it and clean the fur, never minding the stench. If it was fresh and warm, Stinky always enjoyed the snack. And although his family had never known about his grave robbing, they didn't mind his newest hobby. It brought in some extra money and didn't hurt anyone.

Morally, Remus was sound.

Sometime after they had graduated, Roman left them. Something about chasing his dreams, or whatever. That "stars didn't live with their families into their twenties." A bunch of bullshit if you asked Remus, but Roman hadn't asked Remus.

He'd made the declaration, and the next day, he was gone.

Remus missed him, sometimes, but he'd made his choice.

If he ever came back, they'd still welcome him with open arms. He was family. To theirs, nothing was more important. 

Remus' father often recounted the story of Abraham.

" _ I dun't care if God told me to do it, I'd never betray my own family," _ he'd say in a southern drawl, ruffling Remus' hair despite the fact that he was a fully grown man. " _ That Abraham folk was off his meds, and God was too if he thought it was a rational idea. Remus, ya could be a homo and a serial killer and we'll all love ya the same, alright? We'll getcha the help ya need, but we'll love ya through it." _

His mute Hispanic mother, knitting in the corner with blistered hands, gave a grin and a short nod.

How Roman left was beyond Remus. He didn't see what he'd had.

Luckily, Remus wasn't a killer, though the thought crossed his mind a time or two. He preferred his victims already dead before he played with their bodies. Screams weren't his forte. Permanent damage left him feeling sick when he was the cause.

It was for the best. 

Dinner was his proposal time nowadays, the time he would grant his family with the outrageous things spinning through his head, and they'd support him or tell him to "quit actin' crazy" with a grin in their eyes.

Today, he had a lovely one, and he was practically vibrating in his seat over it.

"Remus, darling, you're not eating your corn," Remus' grandmother slurred slowly with a grin, knowing what she was prompting with full intentions of prompting it- Remus' outbursts, always joyful in their presence, always perfectly accepted. "Something on your mind?" She asked, tilting her head as if she wasn't sure, as if there wasn't  _ always _ something on Remus' mind.

"I'm gonna fight God!" He said excitedly.

After a moment, his father blinked, slipping more corn onto his plate.

"I know what you're thinking," Remus exclaimed with an arrogance unmatched, "Why would I fight God? He has only blessed us. Well, the answer to that is- just because I wanna! I wanna fight God."

"How ya gonna find God looking like that?" Remus' grandfather asked, referring to Remus' crop top and jeans. "Those ain't looking clothes, sonny. Ya gonna hafta get some thicker material if ya plannin' to go all the way to Heaven with it. They don't let in pretty boys who show their bellies."

"When's the last time you went?" Remus joked, and his grandfather cackled as his grandmother responded.

"Just last night, dearie, he stopped snoring for a whole two minutes, think he met Him then. I's sure I'd be wakin' up a widow, but then he was back. So close to being rid of him!" She shook her head as if disappointed, and her husband cackled harder.

"Alright, alright, that's enougha' that. Eat your corn, boy, ya can think of fighting God tomorrow if ya still got the spunk," said Remus' father, and the man grinned ear to ear, digging into his meal.

At his shoulder stood an angel, dreading his words- for of all the things Virgil had learned about Remus as he grew, it was that he never gave up when the reason was "I can't."

At his other stood a demon, invisible to the angel's eye as the angel was to him. What words to finally bring about Remus' end, to finally sway him to the dark, once and for all- as he was always meant to be.

Both plotted, a hand from each on Remus' shoulder as the man ate. Despite the points of contact, the only thing Remus felt was the black cat rubbing against his shins.

  
  



End file.
